


Finders Keepers

by HowAboutThatSnapback



Category: Gravity Falls, Twilight Series - Stephenie Meyer
Genre: Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Family Bonding, Gen, I just wanted to play with this, I'm Bad At Tagging, I'm writing this as I go so there will be inconsistent updates, No proofreading done, Physical Abuse, no promises for an actual plot, or at least implied, probably no romance, we post it unedited like men
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-21
Updated: 2020-11-26
Packaged: 2021-03-03 03:22:24
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 9,770
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24298054
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HowAboutThatSnapback/pseuds/HowAboutThatSnapback
Summary: Carlisle hardly expected to run into Stanley Pines nine years after treating him for a broken leg and Stanley never thought he'd run into his childhood doctor traveling across America. A chance meeting with Carlisle finding Stanley injured sets off a series of events that lead old wounds to be torn back open. With each other will those wounds heal?
Relationships: Carlisle Cullen/Esme Cullen, Stanford Pines & Stanley Pines, Stanley Pines & Carlisle Cullen, Stanley Pines & The Cullens
Comments: 4
Kudos: 16





	1. Prologue: Lost and Found

"Doc?"

Carlisle turns his head and finds a teenage Stanley Pines standing before him with a fraying jacket and sunken features. No not a teenager, he'd probably be in his early twenties at this point. He recalls a few years ago when the boy was eleven along with his twin brother. Stanley had broken his leg playing on the beach and was brought in by his parents. He had a twin with six fingers. Stanley tried to act tough and cried only a little when he reset the bone. He's grown into a handsome young man, however he looks like he's had a rough couple of years.

"You ain't changed a bit," the boy laughs, voice catching near the end and sending him into a coughing fit.

He hadn't expected to run into someone that would recognize him walking out of work to go home. He doesn't know what the Jersey boy is doing all the way in North Dakoda, but he figures he's struck out on his own…

"Are you alright?" Carlisle asks instead of acknowledging the jibe at his age.

Stanley waves him off with a broad, but weak grin. "Healthy as a horse. Spit went down the wrong pipe."

Carlisle gives him a disbelieving look. "Are you here to check yourself in?"

"You know expensive the hospital is? I- uh- I was coming to check on someone…" His demeanor dimming with a burden of emotions that Carlisle cannot fathom. Before Carlisle can ask, anymore Stanley's smiling at him. "Working here now?"

"Yes, I work here," Carlisle says, holding out his hand. "Dr. Davis."

"That's right," Stanley says, though he looks like he doesn't believe it.

"I can take you up to the patient's room," Carlisle offers.

A bitter, self-deprecating laugh. "No, there's not a point. They- ah- they didn't make it."

"I'm sorry for your loss."

The young man turns his head away, but Carlisle can smell the saltiness of tears. "Doesn't matter."

Carlisle is at a loss for words.

"See ya 'round, doc," Stanley finally says, rushing to a car Carlisle assumes to be his. An El Diablo.

He's peeling off at speeds Carlisle finds comfortable for himself and his family, but had his heart been beating would send it into cardiac arrest seeing Stanley do it. He's sure the tightening of his chest just now is the closest he will ever come to a cardiac arrest in his life.

He forces himself to calm down and assures himself that Stanley was grieving and needed time to himself. He'd probably never see the boy again so he sends a prayer to the Father to look after the boy and guide him to safe shores before he continues home, not thinking anymore of it.

That moment comes rushing back a month later when he comes across the young man stumbling out of his car and throwing up a mixture of vomit and blood. Without thought, Carlisle is rushing as fast as a human would and kneeling beside the young man whose brow is covered in sweat and face starting to blossom with bruises. His whiskey colored eyes are clouded and unfocused. He looks like he's just gotten out of a rough fight.

He flinches away from Carlisle's touch and snarls at him. "Whaddoyawant?!"

This is the opposite of the child and young man he's seen before so he cannot act with familiarity.

"I'm a doctor. I would like to check your wounds."

"Can't 'ford it," he grunts.

"I won't charge you."

He scoffs. "Usually that means a lost kidney or somethin'. No thanks."

Carlisle sighs quietly and levels himself so he's eye to eye with the weakened Stanley. "I swear on my mother's grave… on my profession as a doctor that I will not charge you. Please, let me take care of you."

The young man's eyes begin to water and he lets out a harsh laugh. "Yeah, r-"

He bites off whatever sarcastic comment he was going to say and throws up off to the side. The smell is just as wretched as the first. His arms shake under his weight and he collapses in exhaustion. Absolute panic courses through him and he immediately checks his vitals. His heartbeat's picked up and is weaker than he would have liked and just a light check he can tell there's internal bleeding.

Stanley's eyes are more unfocused than before.

"I'm taking you to the hospital," Carlisle insists.

Stanley grips his sleeve with surprising strength. "No, the cops... George... they'll kill me."

The helplessness the immortal feels is immeasurable, however, something in him says, "Alright... I'll take care of you myself."

That seems to help sooth Stanley enough that he falls unconscious. Carlisle figures Alice has already warned the others and focuses on gently picking up his impromptu patient and rushes him home.

Little does he know this action will change several lives. For the better or worse... that is yet to be decided...


	2. Laying It Bare

Stanley is in a lot of pain when he wakes up. His face, body and pride hurt more than anything. He should've known better than to make a deal with George. His reputation for being the worst of the worst preceded him, but the amount of money that was at stake was more than enough for him to turn a blind eye. After years of this, one would think he'd have learned by this point.

He cracks open his eyes and takes note of his surroundings. He's not in his car or in a hospital or... _anywhere_ that's familiar.

The room's walls are painted a blue-ish gray with darker blue accents to match all around from the curtains to the rug to the comforter on top of him. This looks to be someone's guest room if he were to take a guess. He can't remember how he ended up here. What led to his?

There's a brief knock on the door before it opens- the one that doctors always use just before they barge in without further announcement- and there's the doctor he ran into a few weeks ago that he knew when he was eleven. It explains the doctor's knock. From what he can tell, the man hasn't aged a bit in all those years.

"Good morning," the man says with a tight smile. "How are you feeling?"

"Like shit," he replies before it hits him this man knew him as a kid. Hearing him cuss would likely throw him off.

Luckily that doesn't seem to be the case.

The man nods and writes something down on a notepad. “You had internal bleeding and have a concussion, a broken rib, a stomach ulcer and multiple cuts and bruises.”

“I’m not in a fancy hospital am I?”

“No, you requested that I not take you to the hospital,” the man replies. “I had to acquire some supplies from the hospital to take care of your internal bleeding, but everything else I managed to take care of with the supplies I normally carry in my bag.”

Stanley eyes the doctor, wondering how shady he really is. “Where am I?”

“You’re in my home,” he answers, looking up from his notepad. “Do you mind allowing me to continue with a checkup?”

“Knock yourself out…”

He stands to his feet and takes his stethoscope and uses it to check his heart and lungs and then uses a light to check his eyes.

“Everything looks to be doing well. You smoke, correct?”

“Yeah.”

The man nods to himself and writes it down. “Alright. Mind answering some questions for me?”

Stanley eyes the man warily. “Depends on what they are.”

“Simple, I assure you. What is today’s date?”

It takes a moment but he finally remembers. “March 17th.”

The man nods and writes it down. “Your name?”

“Steven James.”

The man gives him a reproachful look. “Your real name, please.”

Stanley shifts uncomfortably. “Stanley Pines.”

“Thank you,” the man says, writing that down. “Do you recall my name?”

“Sorry, I don’t.”

“Dr. Carlisle Davis. I didn’t expect you to remember considering we haven’t seen each other in years and have run into each other once between then.” He finishes writing and he places the notepad on his leg. “I have more personal questions considering you’re in my home with my family. Would you mind answering them?”

Guilt gnaws at his insides. “I guess…”

“Why are you in trouble with the law?”

“I plead the fifth,” Stanley immediately says.

“I don’t care about anything unless it has to do with violence,” Carlisle assures.

“Embezzlement, smuggling drugs and stuff like that. I wouldn’t hurt anyone ‘less they deserved it,” Stanley insists.

“Alright… and who is George?”

Stanley feels his stomach drop at the mention of the man.

George White, one of the most cold-hearted crooks Stanley’s ever met in his life. Most of the crooks he knew had decent reasons- needing money or protection or seeing no choice- but this man did it for the sheer love of power. The things he had to do under that man’s unwavering green gaze makes his stomach churn with regret. If he never sees that man again it’ll be too soon.

“Someone you never wanna meet,” Stanley says simply, chest tight.

Carlisle seems to note his discomfort and leans closer, golden gaze sympathetic. “Take some breaths and calm down.”

Several breaths later and he finds himself calmed down enough to continue a conversation. The doctor’s presence is surprisingly calming considering Stanley’s ingrained mistrust of most people. Maybe not ingrained, but it certainly has become instinct in recent years. Trusting everyone leads to-

“Good,” Carlisle says, leaning back in his chair. “I’m keeping you on bedrest for the next few days-”

“No need for that, doc,” Stanley insists, already moving the covers of his legs. “I’m good to go.”

Carlisle moves faster than he looks capable of as he places a hand on his chest to keep him still. The man’s stronger than he looks. “I insist. I’m invested in your well-being now. I’ve called in sick and let them know I’ll be out for a few days to ensure I don’t infect anyone else.”

“Why?” The questions left him before he could bring himself to bring back his filter.

“Because I remember you as a child and it seems you need help. I live a good thirty minutes from the city so you won’t have to worry about anyone tracking you here. I’m very persuasive so any police that come questioning will leave you alone. And your car was impounded so you have no way of leaving without my assistance.”

Stanley scowls. “You didn’t bring my car?”

“I was a bit more concerned about keeping you from dying,” Carlisle deadpans.

The young man’s face flushes from embarrassment. “I guess I should thank you for that…”

The man hesitates a moment before saying, “You’re welcome.”

Those words hang in the air for a while, leaving both men sitting there awkwardly.

Carlisle finally clears his throat and stands to his feet. “My wife, Esme, made breakfast. I’ll bring some up for you.”

Stanley’s eyebrows furrow, unsure how to respond to that. He’s not used to simple kindnesses from just anyone. Darryl’s wife was really nice to him, making an extra plate of breakfast and cup of coffee for him any time he stayed over. He held her in high regard even if she knew the bare minimum of what he and her husband got into. This… this took it to another level. He doesn’t know how to feel about this doctor doing impromptu emergency care on him in his own home for free.

“For now just rest,” Carlisle says, leaving Stanley to his thoughts.


	3. Introductions & Deductions

The next few days Carlisle finds Stanley to be… mistrustful. He doesn’t need either Edward or Jasper’s gifts to know that he’s been through recent trauma and didn’t feel comfortable with the situation. Considering the state he found him in and the less than savory activities Stanley’s confessed and implied himself to be in it’s not surprising. Regardless, he has the rest of the family stay away from their house guest and only has himself interact with him.

Today- however- is his last day off and he wants to ensure proper care so he’s decided to introduce Esme and Edward to him. It would set the young man more at ease knowing Carlisle is being cautious with having a criminal near his family than giving them free reign around him. Stanley would probably not trust his judgement as a medical professional otherwise. Not only that, but it ensures the young man has no reason to think of him and his family as anything but human due to the- admittedly unnecessary- precautions. With Edward “protecting” Esme, it would give him less reason to attack if he felt threatened. Edward is the only viable option as Emmett is too large and intimidating and Jasper's battle hardened demeanor would set Stanley on edge. Edward- at least- seemed the least physically imposing to most humans.

At breakfast he goes up the stairs at a human pace with Esme behind him. She carries the tray of food he’s taken to bringing the past few days without even the water and coffee stirring, which she will allow when she walks in.

Carlisle knocks and opens the door, looking at Stanley to make sure he’s decent before he lets Esme in. He imagines the young man would be embarrassed if he was indecent.

“Good morning,” Carlisle greets. “This is my wife, Esme. Esme, this is Stanley.”

Stanley’s eyes flicker between the two before he smiles politely if not charmingly. “Nice t’ meetcha.”

“The same to you,” she says, setting the tray in front of him. “While Carlisle’s at work, our son- Edward- and I will be looking after you. I’ll be sure to introduce him to you later. For now eat up.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Stanley replies, waiting until she’s out of the room to take a slow bite and savor his food.

Carlisle gets the impression Stanley thought he’d not meet anyone else in his family.

He takes his usual seat and crosses his right leg over his knee, his golden gaze on his patient as he eats for a few more moments before he averts his eyes to write nonsense on his notepad. He's noted this helps Stanley feel more at ease and he'd rather not risk his ulcer getting worse due to unnecessary stress. Each night he's helped Stanley to the bathroom, shower, and change with complaints only coming from Stanley himself. Carlisle is just glad there's enough sense in his head and respect for his person that the young man listens to him instead of fighting every step of the way.

He glances up when he hears Stanley finish eating and notes that there's still a significant portion remaining despite the food being easily digestible and light. A sure sign of starvation he's already noted and taken into account for further treatment.

Carlisle places his notepad on his knee and looks directly at his patient. "How are you feeling today?"

Stanley scratches the back of his neck lightly. "Fine."

Another fight for information. He shouldn't expect anything less. "Please elaborate."

A sigh from the injured party. "Still tender, but feeling better. The pain's not as bad if I move slow."

"Very good," Carlisle says, writing down the information. "And have you been able to keep down all your food?"

He knows the answer already, but he has to feign sleeping in order to minimize the chance of exposure. Stanley got up once during the night and it was to relieve himself. It was actually a pleasant surprise after three days of "waking up" in the middle of the night and attending to him as he hurled the contents of his stomach into the toilet. Perhaps he should be glad Alice went as far as to buy pajamas before this situation even came about.

"Yeah. Didn't throw up at all last night."

"Very good." Carlisle's voice is a bit higher pitched to convey surprised delight at the progress. "I still don't recommend moving around too much, but I think it's safe to say you shouldn't need more than a couple of more weeks to be properly back on your feet."

Stanley groans quietly. "I'll be fine, doc. Right as rain and ready to leave."

Time for a different approach. Sarcasm seems to be something Stanley understands well.

"You have a medical degree?"

Stanley blinks. "Huh? No?"

"Then if you don't, what makes you think you an override a doctor's recommendation?" Golden eyes hold steady with whiskey. "I know you're not comfortable with- as you call it- _taking handouts_ , but this is my life's work. I love helping people, getting paid is merely a bonus. So, please, allow me to continue to care for you until you're fully healed."

Stanley hesitates. "Just a couple of weeks?"

"Yes, that's all I ask."

"Fine."

"Thank you." It's said as sincerely as he can convey through voice alone as Stanley isn't looking at him. After a moment he pulls out the medicine and vitamins that Stanley has to take daily and hands over the correct amount of pills. "Please, take these."

Stanley pops the pills into his mouth and then takes a gulp of water, whiskey eyes grateful.

Carlisle has dealt with many patients that lived rough lives and he was careful to keep the medicine locked away in a cabinet and only brought the amount needed each time. Regardless of the medical training the others in the family have, their home is not equipped to handle a human overdosing. He was sure to give every family member clear instructions on Stanley's care plan just in case he and Esme aren't able to be there. Edward and Rosalie- each having full medical degrees- could take care of him unsupervised if it weren't for the fact their ages would cause suspicion.

"Is there anything you would like in the meantime?"

Stanley shrugs helplessly. "Maybe a book?"

Apparently the television they moved into the room was is losing it's appeal. He needs other stimuli otherwise he will go mad in this room.

"What type of books do you like?"

The look on Stanley's face said he hasn't been asked his preference in a while. It was the same look he wore being asked what he wanted to eat. Carlisle mentally checks the young man's chart from when he was eleven and comes to the conclusion he'd just turned twenty about a month prior. He was practically still a boy! He knew that parents typically just set food in front of their children and let them eat, but even such a simple kindness seemed to throw him off.

"Uh, I'm not picky."

Carlisle sighs quietly. "Alright, I'll be back with a book."

He picks up the tray and takes it out of the room.

After making it down the stairs he flits to the kitchen to start washing the dishes.

"He likes adventure novels," Edward informs from the living room, scowling at the chessboard between him and Alice.

"Thank you," Carlisle sighs as he places the dried plate in the pantry. "Did he think of any book in particular?"

"No. Perhaps Huckleberry Finn will interest him. _Alice_." He glares up at the psychic as she smirks.

"Just testing a theory," she insists innocently.

Carlisle shakes his head with amusement and makes his way to his office instead of sticking around to figure out how Alice is irritating Edward. He'll find out another time regardless.

It takes only a moment to find the book he's looking for, but he dawdles in order to give it an appropriate amount of time for a human to clean and search for something. Once a few minutes passes he makes his way to the guest room and knocks, pausing long enough for Stanley to deny him entry before entering.

"I grabbed _The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn_ for you. I hope you enjoy it," Carlisle says as he walks forward.

There's surprise on the young man's face as he takes the offered book. "Oh, uh, thanks."

Carlisle tilts his head subconsciously. "Is there anything else you need?"

"Nah, I'm good."

Carlisle hesitates a moment. "At lunch I'll introduce my son to you."

Stanley grows still but then nods. "Alright."

Carlisle exits the room with a thoughtful frown on his lips.

Stanley is certainly an interesting character. From what he's discussed with Edward, Alice and Jasper, Stanley's basically a ticking time bomb of festering emotions- particularly anxiety.

Edward informed them that he can't read Stanley's mind as thoroughly as he can everyone else and can only get mild impressions unless they're unwaveringly strong for more than a few seconds. Most of those strong thoughts consist of unpleasant things that Edward refuses to tell anyone about as it is, after all, Stanley's personal business. He only advises for and against certain habits. The first things he advised Carlisle to do was always having his hands within sight, closing the doors softly and making sure his footsteps can be heard at all times.

Alice advises him on treatment, looking into the future to see what will and won't work. If she sees something that will likely trigger their human guest, she's quick to warn him and allows him time to change tactics.

Jasper has been a great help while he's in the house, letting him know when Stanley is feeling overwhelmed and is hiding it well, warning him when he's feeling sick.

Even with over a century of medical knowledge under his belt, he is grateful for their advice.

"You'll give yourself a headache thinking like that for so long," Edward says from downstairs.

Carlisle gives an amused huff and makes his way downstairs again. "Physically impossible for our kind, but I accept the sentiment behind it nevertheless."

Edward throws an amused look over his shoulder before returning to his chess game with Alice who was glaring down at the board.

Esme comes downstairs with red and green paint on her cheeks. Carlisle allows himself a smile as he gently cleans it off her cheek.

"Another project?" he asks.

"Yes. Something to add to Rosalie and Emmett's cottage in Maine," she replies with a sparkle in her golden eyes. "And before you ask, no you cannot sneak a peak. It's bad enough we have two vampires that know about it already."

Her pointed look to Edward and Alice is returned with innocent smiles.

He chuckles. "I wouldn't dream of ruining the surprise."

"I can just go up there now," Rosalie says as she enters from the garage absolutely spotless despite her tinkering with the cars the entire time.

"You wouldn't dare," Esme insists, narrowing her eyes playfully.

Rosalie rolls her eyes with a fond smile as she settles on the couch. "Are we really keeping the human a few more weeks?"

"We have to," Alice pipes up as she knocks over her king. "His injuries aren't gonna go away anytime soon and that ulcer alone would've nearly killed him if he _hadn't_ been attacked."

"She makes a point," Carlisle replies. "I don't know his entire situation, but I know there's something more to this... he was a good kid and he's still a good kid. He's just been down the wrong path."

"Can he really be all that good being a criminal?" Rosalie asks. It's not sneered, but genuinely curious.

"I can vouch for him," Edward adds in with a curious look on his face. "I don't know what it is about him, but I know he's a good kid. Misguided and possibly mistreated, but good nonetheless."

"Poor boy's probably been through too much," Esme mutters, gaze looking towards the stairs.

The room grows quiet with contemplation as they all think over their human guest.

"All we can do is do the best we can while he's with us so he will go through no more," Carlisle finally says firmly.

Unknown to him Edward and Alice share a meaningful look.

...

Emmett and Jasper are back from their hunt just before lunch, both immediately starting to bug Edward in good fun who excused himself to help Esme get lunch together. Alice and Rosalie disappeared into Alice and Jasper's room to look over some magazines of the latest fashion. That just left Carlisle to check on their guest and allow him to meet Edward after.

“How is the book so far?” Carlisle asks.

“It’s pretty good so far. I’ve only gotten a few pages in,” Stanley shrugs, a smile tugging on his lips. “I read Tom Sawyer as a kid so I’m looking forward to the rest.”

Carlisle finds the twinkling in the young man’s whiskey eyes to be a blessing. Not once before had Stanley done anything to make himself vulnerable- not even showing he’s enjoying anything except maybe the food given to him in a polite thanks. It makes him look as young as he actually is- just a boy coming into manhood. A strong protectiveness overwhelms him for a moment seeing the quiet, pure joy on Stanley’s face.

“I’m glad to hear that,” Carlisle whispers genuinely.

Stanley looks up with mild confusion from his food, but says nothing.

Instead of addressing that questioning gaze, he opens his notebook and fidgets a little to set the human at ease. “When was your last bowl movement?”

Stanley makes a face. “This morning after breakfast,” he answers before taking a sip of orange juice.

“Good. And how is your pain right now?”

“Pretty bad,” Stanley complains. “The meds’ve worn off already.”

“He’s lying,” Jasper warns from downstairs.

Carlisle narrows his eyes. “Are you sure?”

Stanley fidgets uncomfortably and mutters, “No, they’re still workin’…”

Carlisle sighs quietly and writes it down. “You’re not getting extra medication from me. If you have too much in your system, you could die.”

Something in Stanley’s eyes says _that’s the point_ and it breaks Carlisle’s heart in new ways he wasn’t sure it could be. The first time he met Stanley he was a happy boy who had the most vivid imagination and big dreams. All he needed in life to be happy was his family. He has no idea what’s happened to the boy between now and then, but his outlook on life was cynical and bleak and he knew injustice better than mercy. Yet Carlisle can see the remains of that little boy in his whiskey eyes during small moments.

After an unnecessary, steadying breath, Carlisle looks at Stanley with unwavering gold. “I hope that by the end of this visit… you can put a bit more worth in yourself. Until then, please enjoy the book. When you’re done set your tray on the nightstand and I’ll pick it up later.”

Stanley responds with a noncommittal grunt.

Carlisle closes the door after himself and heaves a quiet sigh.


	4. The Way We Were

Stanley has decided the Davis family is nice... but strange.

He can only make that assumption due to his limited time with them and the limited amount of information they’ve given him about the others.

He’s had the most interaction with Dr. Davis but he can tell the man’s got more layers to his character than anyone else he’s ever known. Something suspicious about him on how he’s so willing and able to take care of Stanley in his own house, his seemingly endless kindness and irrationally bright golden eyes. Mrs. Davis is- from what he can tell- motherly and kind without fault. Her golden eyes are always warm and remind him of his Ma almost too much despite the color difference- which considering his mother is a pathological liar isn’t entirely a good thing. Their son, Edward- who _also_ has golden eyes- is polite and surprisingly sharp for his age. He’ll have to keep an eye on him to keep from slipping on the more unsavory bits of his life. Carlisle was one thing, Edward is another matter entirely. He is still a kid.

He's heard that the second youngest, Alice, is eccentric and about as obsessed with clothes as most women are assumed to be- perhaps _too_ obsessed from Edward's loving complaints. Jasper is a strong silent type who normally sets others on edge but is apparently “such a sweet boy” as Esme insists. Rosalie is like her name’s sake- beautiful with thorns- hard to get to know, but fiercely protective of those she loves. Emmett is apparently a large “teddy bear” who loves pranks and having a good time.

In the middle of these thoughts there’s a knock on the door. The fact that it doesn’t open immediately lets him know it’s either Esme or Edward.

“Come in,” he calls.

The door opens to reveal Edward whose golden eyes glint with mirth. “Good morning.”

“How do you always wake up in such a good mood?” Stanley demands.

“I never sleep,” Edward shrugs.

Stanley rolls his eyes. “Hardy-har-har.”

“It’s summer vacation, I’m not on a normal sleep schedule,” Edward shrugs before leaning against the door frame. “Carlisle says you can come downstairs for breakfast. It’ll help you get your strength back.”

Stanley feels a swell of joy at that. “Great. I’ll be down after my shower.”

“I’ll be in my room. Holler if you fall.”

With that said, he slips out of the room, closing the door while he’s at it. He hears another door close a not too far away.

Stanley was absolutely ecstatic when he didn’t need help taking a shower anymore the previous week. He relishes in each bit of freedom he gets because Carlisle- unlike every shady doctor Stanley’s ever met- wants him to be at full health before he leaves. He has this thing about him… almost like he genuinely cares.

Stanley snorts to himself. _Yeah, right._

He takes a nice, warm shower and gets dressed in clean clothes. Esme insists she doesn’t mind doing his laundry on top of the loads of laundry she must be doing for the rest of the family and even grabs his clothes from his hands when he attempts to leave to do it himself. He finds it strange, but... it warms his chest and leaves him grateful.

He slips on his sneakers and exits the room where he finds Edward exiting his room.

“Ready?”

“Yeah,” Stanley grunts.

He walks down the stairs gingerly with Edward hovering worriedly behind him. He makes it down alright, but he’s a bit breathless. He knows he’ll likely need help getting up the steps, but he hopes Carlisle will be back by that time to force his help on him instead of subjecting Stanley to ask.

The table has two of the four other teenagers sitting at the table. If he remembers correctly Emmett and Jasper are out on a camping trip with some of their friends since down south the weather was _way_ more suitable for camping than where they currently are. Edward stuck around because he didn’t want to go apparently. So that left Rosalie- the beautiful blond who was taking a sip of orange soda- and Alice- the pretty black haired girl who is flitting about helping Esme get the last of breakfast on the table.

“Good morning,” Alice chirps, bright gold eyes curious as she looks at Stanley. “I’m Alice.”

 _I figured,_ Stanley thinks as he takes her offered hand and shakes it. “Stan.”

She frowns thoughtfully. “You don’t like being called Stanley?”

“No,” he admits. “Saves more time that way.”

She smiles. “Then Stan it is.”

Stan smiles back, charmed by her immediately. “Thanks.”

The blond stands- taller than him by a few inches even without heels on- and holds out her hand, golden eyes observing him. “Rosalie.”

Stanley takes it and notes how strong her grip is- like she’s used to shaking hands with men who don’t hold back when shaking hands with a woman. “Nice t’meetcha.”

“Breakfast is ready,” Esme announces.

The spread on the table is a sight to behold. She’s outdone herself. If this is what it looks like for a regular breakfast he wonders what big events like Thanksgiving looks like in the Davis household. He tucks in with the rest of them and eats the most out of all of them- even Edward who’s only seventeen.

Again, the Davises are strange. All- that he’s interacted with- have flawless ashen skin, golden eyes with dark circles under them, and grace in every movement. Sure, all of them have varying features and Alice is half-Japanese from what he's been told, but they all are too alike to be denied. None of them- except apparently Rosalie and Jasper- are related. If the boys he hasn’t met are anything like he expects, they’ll have the same things to cause a resemblance. It doesn’t take a genius like his brother to figure that out.

Suddenly his appetite is gone and he finds himself struggling to put away the last of his plate.

“Do you want to go upstairs?” Esme asks gently, golden eyes worried.

He glances at the clock. About fifteen minutes until Carlisle gets back from the night shift. “Not yet.”

He wants to think of anything else except for-

"Are you gonna finish that?" Edward inquires as he sips on orange juice.

Stan pushes his plate closer to the teenage boy. "Have at it."

"Thanks," Edward says, taking the last of his french toast.

"What type of music do you like?" Alice asks suddenly.

Blinking in surprise, Stan answers, "Anything."

Her forks rests against the plate. "Is there anything that's your favorite? I love _Chain of Fools._ "

"An Aretha Franklin fan?" Stan asks, lips twitching up in a smile.

"She's the _queen_ of soul," Alice insists, giving the impression she's had to defend her love of the song. "Have you _heard_ that woman's voice."

"Oh, I'm not knockin' it," Stan assures as he raises his hands in defense. "Listen to her a lot. Listened to her growin' up cause she was one of Ma's favorites."

Alice shoots Edward a victorious look. " _See!_ I _told_ you Aretha's great."

Stan's eyebrows raise in surprise. How could anyone not like Aretha Franklin? _This_ he has to hear.

"I never said she isn't!" Edward argues, golden glare on Alice, but there's no heat behind it. "She's got a fantastic voice and she's one of the top artists for a _reason. I'm_ just saying that _I_ don't like _Chain of Fools_ all that much. I'm not saying every song she put out is bad."

"She's very defensive about her favorite songs," Esme says quietly from Stan's right. Her golden eyes twinkle as she looks between him and her arguing children. "Edward's a particular fan of music so when he doesn't like something, she likes to annoy him by playing it as loud as the radio will go."

Stan chuckles in amusement. "Sounds like me and my- uh- my family. Argued over what songs to let play in the car and everything."

He wants to disappear or travel back in time to fix his mistakes. He wants to be able to talk about his past without the stabbing feeling in his chest every time he even _thinks_ about them.

"What's your favorite song?"

He looks across the table at Rosalie in surprise, finding her finished with her meal. Her golden gaze is inquisitive and polite. As if she knows the train of thought he was going down and wanted to prevent it from getting worse.

"Oh- ah..." He feels- for once- a delightful pain in his chest as he gives a sad smile down to the table. " _The Way We Were..._ that's my favorite song."

He can see his ma in the kitchen or cleaning or even just dancing to the song as it played on the radio. Her voice wasn't as perfectly pitched as Barbara Streisand, but it was pleasant in it's own way as it rasped in harmony. It'd only come out within the past few weeks, but he knew his mother would love it the second he heard it.

"A beautiful song," Esme says quietly, cold hand touching his arm.

He looks up at her with her quiet sympathy. He forces a smile and turns back to the still arguing siblings when Edward's voice raises slightly.

"You leave Sinatra out of this!"

"He's overrated!" Alice bites back.

"Well that's unfair," Stan throws in his two cents, "he's got quality music. Just cause you don't like it doesn't mean it's not good."

" _See!_ " Edward fusses, gesturing to Stan. "Stan agrees with me!"

Alice shoots Stan a betrayed look.

Before Stan can stutter out a response the front door opens, saving him from having to respond.

"I'm home!" Carlisle calls.

Stan pushes himself out of his chair in time with Esme and flees before Alice could sucker him onto her side. He walks as quickly as is comfortable which is apparently slower than Esme who flits to her husband's side so she can give him a kiss on the cheek. Carlisle returns the sentiment and then looks up at Stanley with a pleased expression.

"It's good to see you up and moving," Carlisle says.

Stan gives a crooked grin. "Good to _be_ up and movin' doc. You also just saved me from gettin' conned into another argument over music so thanks for that."

Carlisle chuckles quietly. "Let me guess... Edward and Alice?"

"Yes," Esme answers with an eye roll.

"Dad tell Edward that he's wrong!" Alice shouts from the dining room.

Rosalie slips out and goes to the stairs with a quiet "welcome home" thrown over her shoulder as she flees her arguing siblings.

"Get me back upstairs and I'll hold ya hostage long enough to keep them from draggin' ya into their argument," Stan offers.

Carlisle nods. "That sounds like a deal."

"I'll take your bag," Esme offers.

"Thank you, dear," he says quietly, kissing forehead as she takes it. His attention turns back to Stan and his smile softens. "Let's get you up stairs."

Going downstairs was much easier. Going upstairs is agonizingly slow and leaves Stan leaning onto Carlisle for support when they finally reach the top. Throughout the entire climb, Carlisle gives encouragement and doesn't touch Stanley at all unless to keep him from stumbling back and falling. Even as he half-carries Stan into the guest room, he's praising him for his progress.

A swell of jealousy overwhelms him for a moment. These kids have an amazing man as a parent if this is how Carlisle treats them.

Instead of going down that road he allows himself to flop down on the bed and pulls the covers over his waist.

"Thanks," he pants.

"You're welcome," Carlisle says as he settles in his chair. "How are you feeling?"

"Exhausted," Stan admits with a grin. "Feels good."

"The progress you've made if tremendous. You went downstairs with no help?"

Stan preens. "Not a bit."

"Fantastic. I'll bring lunch up and- if you're up to it- you can have dinner with us."

"Thanks, but I think I'll stick with one meal a day for now," Stan admits. "Try and minimize my chances of getting between Edward and Alice over their music."

A musical laugh. "I can't blame you. One of the reasons I took night shift today."

A barking laugh. "You ain't gotta tell me about it. Your kids are great. You're doin' a good job."

"Thank you," Carlisle replies with fondness coloring his voice. "Is there anything you need before I go to bed?"

"Just some music and I'm set."

"I'll turn on the radio and keep your door cracked so you can hear it," Carlisle says as he stands and places his chair back against the wall. "Goodnight... or morning?"

"Goodnight," Stan laughs.

A few minutes later music drifts in, a soft piano and humming. A familiar song. His favorite song.

" _Memories at the corners of my mind. Misty water-colored memories of the way we were..._ "

Sorrow fills him and he doubles over despite the pain and sobs quietly.


	5. Unexpected Call

Carlisle sits in living room, thoughts far from where he is. Several hours before he'd heard something he'd never heard in the time Stanley- Stan, Alice insisted- had been staying in their home. Crying.

The first song that came on was _The Way We Were_ and it seemed to set something off in the young man. The smell of salt assaulted him when he climbed the stairs to check on him, pulled by the muffled sobs of the young man. It was only Alice's warning voice that stopped him from continuing onward. She insisted that Stan would react horribly to the intrusion and that was what led him to sitting downstairs with a concerned frown on his face.

Esme's hand is in his as she looks up towards where Stan is sleeping. She wanted to comfort the boy, but she couldn't. They weren't even supposed to know he cried in the first place.

"He thought a lot about his family," Edward informs from his place near the doorway. "It was vivid... something happened."

"The question is what," Carlisle insists.

"We can't say," Alice says quietly. "You have to learn from him yourself. It's just gonna take time... probably a lot of time."

"I suppose that's all we can do," Carlisle sighs.

"It's for the best," Jasper says from his place next to Alice. "Emotions about the past are volatile... it can get pretty ugly if you step in before he's ready."

Carlisle nods his acknowledgement. He can't push Stan too much otherwise it will be a backward step after making so much progress and gaining amicability.

Alice's eyes glaze over abruptly and confusion contorts her and Edward's faces with each passing second.

The entire living room of vampires is still, all watching and waiting for the inevitable reveal. Silent questions undoubtedly bombard Edward, leaving him scowling lightly.

 _Easy, son,_ Carlisle thinks as soothingly as he can.

Edward sends a grateful look his direction and then turns back to Alice. "When?"

"Phone call from Stanley's mom in two seconds," Alice rapidly whispers.

Lo and behold the phone rings two seconds later.

"Carlisle, you should answer," Alice finally says after the second ring.

He takes an unnecessary breath and picks up the phone. "Davis residence, this is Carlisle speaking."

"Hello, Dr. Davis," the rough, feminine voice replies. "I'm Cassandra Pines, Stanley's mother."

"I recall," Carlisle replies, sending a questioning look towards Alice and Edward who are silently communicating in the corner, ignoring him. "May I ask how you got my number?"

"Let's just say, I'm particularly attached to my boys and have a good feeling on them regardless of how far they are from me. How is my boy doing? Is he still having a hard time moving?"

Carlisle decides to question that later. "He's doing better, Mrs. Pines. He's still stiff and moves slowly, but with each day he grows stronger. Just this morning- er maybe yesterday morning?- he was able to walk downstairs for breakfast."

A breath of relief. "Good. Thank you for finding and taking care of my baby."

Carlisle gives a small smile and nods despite her not being anywhere near him. "Of course. I'm happy to, ma'am."

"I have to ask you keep our conversation between us. My son worries too much about me and often lies about how he's doing to me," Cassandra says, her voice catching at the last word. After a steadying breath she continues. "Can you do that Dr. Davis?"

"Yes, ma'am, I can," he assures.

Many thoughts run through his head, majority being questions. How did she get his number? How did she know her son's condition when he hadn't even made a call back home? If she knows that what else does she know? Is their secret compromised? Will she spread word of the truth and risk her life? The lives of others who she tells?

"Despite my... occupation," Cassandra cuts off his line of thought, "I can assure you any secrets you may or may not have will stay confidential. You saved my baby. I owe you everything."

Her voice wavers with what he assumes to be tears. The tears of a mother who knows she nearly lost her child.

"You owe me nothing," he says without hesitation.

Rosalie growls quietly, the only voice to her disagreement.

"I do. This is the least I owe you. All I ask is... is that you take care of my baby... even... even after he gets better."

He gulps the venom building in his mouth with nerves. "Might I ask why he doesn't feel he can't come home? Surely he'd be better off with his family."

There is a long silence before she takes a gulp of air. "Things are complicated. Stan... he's good with secrets. He's got too big of a heart to go back to what he was doin'. I can't... you're the only hope I have of keeping him safe. If he goes back out there he'll..."

The phone is moved and by the faint sound of cloth, he assumes the phone was placed on her chest in attempt to keep her sobs from being heard. He waits, not knowing if she'll hear him at this point.

The phone is moved back into place and her breathing is labored, hitching occasionally when she speaks.

"He'll die," his stomach drops, "Maybe not physically, but he will. He will go down a road he can't come back from and it'll kill him. He's been lucky so far to just skim the top of the underbelly, but he'll go deeper. I feel it in my bones. His heart won't be able to take that on top of what he's already been through."

"What has he been through?" Carlisle asks, desperate to know more about the boy she's entrusting in his care.

"I don't... I don't know," she says quietly. "I just know the beginnings of it and nothing after he's been gone. I just know bits of the boy I raised are dead already, but he's still there. His core. He can be saved. He can be made better, but if you can't get through to him there's no hope."

"How can you be so sure? How do you know as much as you do already?"

The questions left him without his permission, but they are- admittedly- important despite their intrusiveness. If she already knows his family's secret then how? Nothing makes sense. This human woman couldn't possibly have such connections could she?

"I'm not a complete fraud, Dr. Davis."

It all clicks into place.

He remembers her being a phone psychic, robbing people and giving them generalized predictions or telling them what they wanted to hear. After living with a real psychic he thought it was amusing. He never would have guessed this woman would have had such a gift manifest without being changed.

"How?" He whispers. "How does it work?"

"My boys are my world. Anything pertaining to them, I know enough to make contact if needed. I know enough to know what they will become with or without help. Please, Dr. Davis, believe me. It's not so far fetched considering... your truths."

"What _are_ our truths?"

"I don't know. I just know your truths are beyond my reach and I don't want to know them. They're your truths and if was necessary for me to know them, I would already."

Carlisle shares looks of confusion with his family. As many strange conversations as he's had in his life he can honestly say this is one that leaves him speechless. Surely she can't expect them to keep a human around? It's already a risk having him in their home for so long healing. If he were to stay with them, his life would be in danger and their family would be in danger.

"How long are you expecting us to... take care of him after he's healed?"

"As long as it takes for _him_ to heal," she responds, voice stronger and almost authoritative. "You'll find him hard not to love. You'll probably end up fighting to keep him around once he decides to wander again."

"Is that what you... see?"

She laughs. "No, but it's what I know. Stan's hard not to love. He's a goof and when he cares it's with his whole heart. It's hard not to love someone like him..."

Her voice has a sad lilt in the end, leaving him with just as many questions as before.

"Please..."

He looks to his family. Rosalie and Jasper seem against it, Esme looks semi-hopeful, and Alice and Edward are nodding. Whatever it is Alice has seen is worth the risk apparently.

"We'll look after him, Mrs. Pines," Carlisle finally assures.

A breath of relief. "Thank you."


	6. Haircut

Stan grits his teeth as he goes down the last few steps, trying his best to minimize the verbalization of his pain. The stiffness is easing, but it's not gone after a week of going up and down the stairs for one meal a day. He wonders if he should push himself to do more, but by the way Carlisle often has him ease up, it seems that he will have to tread carefully for a while longer.

As he settles on solid ground, Carlisle takes most of his weight on his shoulder.

"You did great," the doctor praises with a genuine smile.

Stan gives a nod of acknowledgement, trying not to let the praise settle too hard in his chest.

He is settled on the empty couch and Carlisle takes his seat beside the young man. At the moment the television is on _I Love Lucy_ and Emmett is arguing with Alice over why his shirt is or isn't an atrocity.

Emmett- Stan's learned- is an absolute clown and he knows that the argument is only done for his own amusement. Emmett absolutely loves getting under Alice's skin and seems to purposefully wear the ugliest shirts, pants and shoes that he can find just for that purpose. Nothing irks her more than ugly clothes and Stan would be lying if he said he didn't enjoy seeing her huffy over it.

"Stan! Tell him that shirt's ugly!" Alice demands, turning to him with large golden eyes pleading with him.

He looks to the mustard yellow shirt Emmett decided to don with the collar popped up and one button undone. The fact that it's paired with brown slacks and black shoes makes it work better than if he were to wear black. If Stan were honest, Emmett could have done much worse.

"It's not that bad," he finally says, smirking down at the girl whose eyes widen with betrayal.

Emmett bursts into booming laughter, arms holding his stomach as he rolls back onto the ground.

"Stan!" Alice cries.

"He's done so much worse, Alice," he defends. "At least he's not wearing purple pants."

Emmett's eyes gleam with mischief.

Alice shoves him. "Emmett, don't even think about it."

"Too late," Edward mutters from the love seat, eyes on the television.

One didn't have to be a mind reader to know _that_.

Alice groans and falls back into Jasper's leg with a childish huff that brings laughter through the entire room.

Stan is trying his best not to get attached- he'll leave as soon as the doctor clears him (which apparently will take months rather than weeks given the ulcer). His first meeting with each person was filled with mistrust until he felt himself begin to relax around them. Jasper and Emmett were intimidating at first and he was wary, but with time he began to see them as normal boys. After coming to this realization- that while the Davis family was strange, they were normal people. It will be painful when he does move onto the next city to try and scrape by, but the attachment is hard to fight. Carlisle and Esme's unfailing kindness and care, Alice and Emmett's pleasantly chaotic presence, Rosalie and Jasper's dry and sarcastic sense of humor, and Edward's wry and insightful conversations are all magnets to him. They remind him- in their own way- of something he lost what feels like eternity ago.

He bites his inner cheek briefly to ground himself in reality instead of drifting into the past or the future. He'd rather enjoy the peace while it lasts before he is back in a sea of chaos.

A scoff behind him causes him to turn his head and see Rosalie at the tail end of her rolling her eyes.

"You two are impossible," she says.

"You know you love us," Emmett says with a grin.

Her eyes soften at his smile, but she doesn't reply.

He's noticed that each teenager has their favorite of their siblings that borders romantic, however, this isn't his place to bring up. He'd rather give them the benefit of the doubt since he's seen more messed up relationships than anything that seems to be present in this family. If it seems to be problematic, he'll bring it to their parents' attention.

_"Lucy, you've got some 'splainin' to do!"_

Rosalie sits on Stan's other side and adjusts her hair so it won't be pinned to the couch.

Stan self-consciously touched his hair, knowing it's getting longer than he prefers. He nearly has a mullet at this point. While the mullet is popular at the moment, he doesn't _want_ one. If it's a leftover ism from his parents, he's not sure, but either way it's too much work to clean. He can't remember the last time he had a proper hair cut. The amount of times he's contemplated cutting it with a knife would make a proper barber weep, he's sure.

"-not touching my hair!"

Stan's attention is brought back to Alice and Emmett who is holding his arms over his head protectively as if she already has a pair of scissors at hand. Her eyes are pleading.

"C'mon. Look at dad's! It looks good."

"I like my hair the way it is," Emmett insists.

Stanley raises an eyebrow. She cut Carlisle's hair? Perhaps...

"You can cut mine," Stan offers.

Alice turns to him with sparkling eyes. "Really?"

He shrugs. "Yeah, why not? I mean, if you mess up I can always shave it."

"I won't mess up," she promises.

"In the bathroom please," Carlisle begs.

Alice nods enthusiastically. "Do you want your hair cut now?"

Stan assesses himself and feels he can make it to the bathroom unaided. "Yeah."

With a quiet grunt, he pushes himself to standing and takes a moment to be sure he is steady before talking to the bathroom where he leans against the counter. Edward brings a chair for him to sit on so Alice will have easy access to his hair and fives him a towel to wrap around his shoulders.

"Have fun," the teen calls as he walks out.

Stan rolls his eyes, but settles down regardless. No sooner than he wrapped the large towel over his shoulders did Alice walk in with a comb, scissors, hair clippers, and a blow dryer.

She sets up the bathroom sink nicely and then pouts at him. "You can't face the mirror! You've gotta be surprised."

Stan scoots the chair to be turned around and then raises an eyebrow at her. "Better?"

Alice beams. "Much. I'm gonna give you the best hair cut."

Stan found himself relaxing quite a bit under her sure hands. She went about wetting the comb and raking it through his hair to make sure every bit of it was damp before she set to work. She never seemed to doubt herself and she hummed a merry tune as she worked. The best part was she didn't force him to talk at all. He just sat there letting his mind go blank.

He doesn't realize he's dozed off until a hand touched his shoulder and he opens his eyes with a quiet "hmmm?" to find Alice beaming at him.

"You're done. What do you think?"

He looks at his reflection and blinks. The hairstyle is classic like the movie stars he watched growing up. It's shorter at the sides and a bit longer on the top and slicked back in a way that left his curls in waves. He imagined if he had a mustache he could be an imitation of Fred MacMurray. 

He reaches back and slicks down his hair along the nape of his hair reverently, ignoring the itchy feeling of loose hair there. It looks good with his face and he's pleasantly surprised by that. He's not sure if he'll be able to recreate this look perfectly without the purchase of a lot of hair gel, but it's more manageable and he's sure he can wrestle it into submission when he leaves.

He looks like the respectable and successful young man his father wanted. That thought puts a sudden pressure of emotion in his chest and he find himself struggling to breathe evenly.

"It looks great," he whispers.

Alice's eyes grow soft in the mirror and she lowers herself to kiss his cheek. "Thanks for letting me do this."

He blinks at the surprise act of affection and smiles, trying to keep from being awkward and sappy. "I outta be thankin' you." He gestures to himself in the mirror animatedly. "I mean look at me! I look more gorgeous than usual! I could be a movie star!"

Her golden eyes twinkle pleasantly. "Glad someone thinks so."

"Anyone who thinks you can't cut hair is an idiot."

She bursts into laughter, and hugs him. "You're the best. Can I trade Emmett for you?"

He chuckles awkwardly and scratches his neck over her arm. "I think you're better off with Emmett. The guy's hilarious and scares people more than me."

Not many took him seriously unless he had a weapon or he looked like he did before Carlisle took him in to take care of him.

Something in her demeanor dims, but her smile is still soft. "I dunno, put me next to you and anyone would think twice about hitting on me."

"That's just because they'll think I'm your dad. Have you seen this beard?" He gestured to the beard coming into being on his chin. Stubble's always made him look older, but with a beard and the hair he had before, he looked at least five years older than he really was.

"Dads are scarier than brothers. _Trust me_."

He can't even begin to imagine Carlisle angry and protective which makes the idea of it that much scarier. And the image of his enraged father comes to mind immediately after, leaving him shivering.

"Y'got that right," he whispers.


End file.
